


I'll Show You the Way

by kaigee



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Dating, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaigee/pseuds/kaigee
Summary: Zuko doesn't know how to love people.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Avatar fic! I just finally finished watching the series :)
> 
> This first chapter is just a prologue. More will be posted soon.

...

It all began on the Seventh Day Festival.

It’s a holiday celebrated in all four nations. Lovers present gifts to each other and spend the day together, often taking trips to romantic places, or planning special surprises for one another. It’s also traditionally the day men will ask out women that they’ve been interested in for a long time—if they have the guts.

Zuko didn’t expect anything special to happen that day.

After his failed relationship with Mai, the idea of romance hasn’t appealed much to him. He knows if he ever attempted to get involved with another person, it would end the same way they did—in anger and heartbreak. Besides, he’s Fire Lord now, he has no time for love. 

Zuko didn’t expect anything to happen, but the unexpected happened anyway. Life is funny like that.

  
  


…

  
  


“Zuko!” Sokka cries that day, throwing himself off the bison and running to Zuko. He is the first to jump down from Appa’s saddle, and also the first to throw his arms around Zuko in a hug. 

It’s a bit overwhelming. Zuko has hugged Sokka before, obviously, but that was a  _ group  _ hug, and it was different. The only other person who has hugged Zuko one-on-one, who has pulled him to his chest and wrapped their arms so tight around him that their hands met in the back, was Iroh. And his mom, probably, but Zuko wouldn’t remember.

That day, Sokka hugs him so tight he thinks his ribs might collapse, and Zuko’s not sure if that’s the reason he can’t breathe, or if he’s just not used to this much closeness, so much skin touching his own. It seems to last forever, and Zuko thinks,  _ this is already a better Seventh Day than I expected, I can’t ask for more than this. _

Then Sokka lets go, and the others run up and insist on hugging him in turn. Zuko gets Katara’s hair tickling his neck, Aang squeezing him tight around the waist, and Toph’s teasing remark: “Still pretty scrawny for a Firelord, we’ll have to fatten you up a bit!” as she pokes him in the stomach and then lays her head on his chest.

So Zuko gets four hugs, and he adds them to the current number:  _ one group hug, one hug from Iroh, one hug (probably) from his mother.  _ That comes out to seven hugs, which is still a number he can count on his hands, but definitely nothing to scoff at. Thinking about it makes him want to smile.

“There’s food waiting for you,” Zuko says, so they turn and walk into the palace, gravel crunching beneath their feet.

Once they reach the table, Sokka quickly sits beside him, his eyes bugging as he gapes at all the food: “You guys have  _ scorpion rolls?”  _ His elbows jostle Zuko’s as they eat, and their fingers brush more than once as they reach for the same appetizers. Iroh sits on his other side, but he seems much more interested in discussing Pai Sho with a friend than he does in eating. His presence is a comforting one, however, and Zuko does not feel quite so overwhelmed with him there.

Still, their conversation is confusing at times, their raucous talk and laughter a foreign sound to his ears. Zuko has not seen them for weeks, has forgotten how they act.  _ Carefree and happy,  _ he thinks,  _ like Uncle but louder.  _ It’s a nice combination. He finds himself content to simply sit and listen to them speak.

But Sokka keeps trying to get him to talk.

He continually glances his way, as well, and sometimes those glances linger for a while, but Zuko can’t quite focus on that because he’s too busy trying to answer the questions Sokka keeps asking him.

“What's it like being Firelord? You going cuckoo yet?” 

“So, how about these spring rolls?”

“How were you while we were gone? Didja miss me?”

Seemingly whenever Zuko takes a break from the conversation, or is quiet for more than a minute, there’s Sokka with another question, nudging his elbow and trying to coax him into speaking. Zuko has no qualms whatsoever about talking to him—in fact, he always enjoys talking to Sokka—but it’s hard to think of interesting answers to give, and it’s strange that Sokka would want to talk to him at all. What’s even stranger is the way Sokka turns to him with wide eyes as he listens, Zuko’s rather boring answers apparently holding all of his attention. Somehow.

“Yes, I missed you,” Zuko says, and Sokka’s eyes light up.

“Yayyy!” he cries, grinning ear-to-ear, and he grabs Zuko’s hand. That’s fine, of course, but Zuko feels a bit strange because Katara is beaming and Aang has a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp and Toph is sending Zuko a sly smile—which she only started doing after Katara whispered something in her ear.

Sokka lets go like Zuko burned him, and Zuko can’t help but look away from them all and fiddle with his hands in his lap, wondering what he did wrong. Whatever it is, he wishes he could take it back.

After that, the conversation dies down, becoming a bit more stilted, a bit more awkward. Zuko realizes, after spending ten minutes sending them all discreet glances in an effort to find out what’s wrong—and whether the change is somehow his fault—that the difference is that Sokka is no longer talking. He seems to be lost in his own head, mind whirling at a hundred-miles an hour as he sends Zuko small looks out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks, Zuko also notices, have gone a bit pink, as well as the tip of his nose.

Well, Zuko has no idea how he could have caused such a strange reaction, but he will make an effort to be sure it does not happen again. Anything that keeps Sokka from talking, from leading the conversation in that charming way he has—breathless with excitement, always chiming in with a joke—must be a very bad thing indeed. And it was obviously caused when Sokka accidentally grabbed Zuko’s hand, so... Zuko won’t let anything like that happen again.

Except, he doesn’t exactly have a choice, because a moment later Sokka puts a hand on his shoulder, and before the aftereffects of the electric shock have worn off, Zuko hears Sokka rejoin the conversation with a triumphant  _ whoop  _ as he recalls the way he caught a platypus-bear a few days ago.

Zuko can’t look at him, but he can feel his hand still—he’s hyper-aware of it—warm and close and clasping tight. His spine tingles, a smile tugs at his lips, butterflies dance in his stomach and he thinks  _ this reminds me of how I felt with Mai. _

Sokka  _ always  _ reminds him of how he felt with Mai. Somehow.

Zuko has about twenty minutes to wonder if he has a crush. To wonder if that’s even a word that could apply to him, if he could ever feel something as normal as teenage pining, lovesickness and other sentimental feelings. He’s not sure if he felt that with Mai. He knows he was  _ supposed  _ to, but all he remembers is a light feeling in his stomach, sometimes, like bubbles, when she kissed him. It only happened a couple times, and could easily have been a strange stomach bug. He never sought out her touch, and he didn’t think about her all the time. Not before they became a couple, and not even after. She wasn’t that type of person. He doesn’t think he was capable of it.

_ So how can he know if he has a crush on Sokka?  _ Zuko wonders for twenty minutes, as the sun turns overhead, golden light forming a halo around Sokka’s face (Zuko’s not staring, he just happens to notice). How can he know whether it’s butterflies or a stomachache? How can he know if this just began now, or if he’s felt this way for a long time? Does it count as a crush if it’s only begun now, if it’s only existed for a few minutes?

Sokka’s hand squeezes his shoulder, wind ruffles his hair, and Zuko gets as far as thinking  _ maybe I wouldn’t mind it if he held my hand again  _ before Sokka turns to him and says, “Let’s go outside. I need to talk to you about something.”

The others share knowing glances, something Zuko has never been good at recognizing but which are so obvious right now they’d be impossible to miss. Aang’s eyes have gone wide as he glances at Toph, Katara is smiling again, Toph looks back at Aang and  _ winks. _

Zuko doesn’t think he could deny Sokka if he wanted to, so he looks at his eager eyes and says, “Yes.”

  
  


…

Sokka takes him to a grove of trees outside the palace. There’s a fountain in the center of them, cracked and overgrown with moss. Water doesn’t run from it anymore, which means it’s completely quiet as Sokka and Zuko sit at its base, aside from the gentle rustling of leaves and their own breathing. Sunlight filters between the branches, casting moving shadows on Sokka’s face. Zuko stares at them and his stomach flips.

He’s probably just sick.

And what would he do if he wasn’t? What would that mean? Surely, he couldn’t work up the courage to tell Sokka, so he would be stuck pining over someone who could never love him back. Thinking about him at night, tossing and turning in bed, if the stories are right about what it’s like to have a crush. Zuko doesn’t think that sounds very appealing.

But then, you can’t exactly choose these things. They just happen to you, don’t they?

Why _did_ this happen to him? Why _Sokka?_ Well, sure, he’s attractive, but there are other attractive people in Zuko’s life, and many of them even live in the palace. None of them are as kind-hearted as Sokka though, firebenders rarely are, and none of them are as funny, or as easy to talk to (Zuko finds very few people easy to talk to), or as good with weapons. Actually, it’s quite impressive that Sokka is such a good fighter, since he isn’t a bender. He simply relies on his own strength, no fancy hand-waving involved. Zuko finds that trait quite admirable. Actually, there are many things about Sokka he finds admirable, and…

Oh.

Zuko looks at Sokka in a new light. He’s smiling lopsidedly, almost to himself, and Zuko likes that—he likes people who smile a lot, they put him at ease. His eyes are on his folded hands, but Zuko doesn’t have to see his eyes to know that they are pretty, to know that he likes them. Sokka and the others have visited the palace many times before, and each time, Zuko can remember liking Sokka’s eyes.

Damn. Maybe he  _ has _ been harboring this crush for a while.

Zuko’s mind immediately begins to whirl, a bit of panic rising as he wonders what to do with this information. It was never like this with Mai, there was never a day he realized he loved her, they both just naturally gravitated toward each other, and he barely had to even think about it. But this is different, this can’t possibly be reciprocated, and so Zuko will have to steal glances at Sokka from across the room, and feel his heart ache in his chest, and it will be agonizing, just like crushes are in all the stories.

Then Sokka blurts out, “Doyawannagooutwithme?”

Zuko blinks. “Um,” he says, trying to decipher what Sokka just said. “Pardon?”

Sokka looks up, taking a deep breath. Their eyes meet, and Sokka looks more determined than Zuko’s ever seen him. He grabs Zuko’s hands and says, “Zuko, do you want to go out on a date with me?”

Zuko gasps, his heart leaps, electricity races down his spine. “Yes!” he cries, just as Sokka has begun to look a little nervous. Sokka’s eyes light up, brighter than Zuko’s ever seen them, and prettier, too.

That’s where it begins.

  
...  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

...

It starts with little things.

Well, it starts out fine. The date, that is. Sokka takes Zuko to a nice restaurant in Ba Sing Se, and insists on paying even though Zuko is  _ Firelord _ and has more gold than he can count. He wants to argue, but Sokka looks so sure, and this is how things go in the stories, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

That's one of the only things he does right.

One exchanged handful of coins later, they're sitting across from each other, an assortment of rolls and rice between them. All around they can hear people talking, couples mostly, leaning over tables close to each other, but no one spares them a glance. Zuko is in disguise, wearing a hat with a long brim and a patch over his burned eye. He likes the way it feels, being anonymous, being ignored—by all but Sokka, that is.

Sokka is looking at him intently, leaning on his elbows and examining him in a way that makes Zuko feel scrutinized but also  _ precious _ , like he's worth looking at, and not just for his scar. Relationships are about equal giving so Zuko looks right back, trying to let Sokka know that he  _ likes _ looking at him. Trying to let Sokka know, somehow, that he has such pretty eyes.

"This is nice," Sokka says. "I like the… candles." 

He points at them. They're tall, placed in gold cups, and dripping wax on the roast chicken. 

Zuko clears his throat. "Yeah," he says. "Bright, uh… fire."

Sokka smiles. "Course you like the fire." He throws his arms wide, nearly knocking a glass on the floor. "You're a fancy, fire-loving firebender!"

"Shh!" Zuko gasps, forgetting that most people don't hate him anymore.

Sokka laughs, and touches his arm.

It's so unexpected, Zuko thinks at first he might flinch. What he does instead is worse—he just freezes, and stares at Sokka's hand like it's a bug on his hand that's going to bite him. He doesn't know what to do.

After an extremely long moment Sokka lets go, clears his throat and folds his arms again. It's unbearably awkward. 

Of course, after it's too late Zuko thinks of a million things he could have done. He could have smiled, could have grabbed Sokka's hand, even  _ kissed _ him. Zuko's stomach flops over when he thinks about that, but it's too late, and now they're just left in awkward silence.

The rest of the date goes much the same way. 

Sokka keeps talking, telling stories and  _ so many  _ jokes, and Zuko just nods along, unsure what to say, what to add. When Zuko gets full and can no longer hide his awkwardness by eating, it gets even worse, and for a few seconds they just stare at each other uncomfortably before Sokka finally picks up the conversation again.

He doesn't try to touch Zuko again. That's good, because Zuko wouldn't know how to respond, but it's also  _ terrible _ , because Sokka has  _ such pretty eyes… _

"Zuko," Sokka says, snapping his fingers in Zuko's face. "Hey there. You're in Ba Sing Se, not the North Pole."

“Oh,” Zuko says, refocusing. The candles cast soft orange light on Sokka’s face, the din and clatter of the restaurant fades into the background as Zuko listens to Sokka’s voice, replaying what he said in his mind. Zuko shouldn’t have zoned out—people don’t do that in stories. In stories, first dates usually aren’t like this, aren’t awkward and full of brief silences. If they are, that’s a bad sign, but Zuko doesn’t know what to say to fill the empty space.

“Sorry,” he offers, and looks away.

Distantly, he hears Sokka sigh. “It’s too loud in here. Come on, let’s go outside.”

“Okay.”

Sokka grabs his hand again. He’s done that a lot today, Zuko notices. He likes to squeeze Zuko’s hand tightly and rub his thumb over the back of his knuckles. Zuko’s not sure where to put his fingers—he and Mai never held hands. Maybe he’s just not cut out for all this touching and softness.

They both gasp when they step outside.

The stars have come out, and they’re scattered across the sky like confetti. Zuko breathes in cold, crisp air and thinks he can feel the closeness of the spirits. The moon is high and bright; Zuko thinks about what Sokka said on the war balloon and hopes he doesn’t feel sad. 

Torches hang on the restaurant’s plaster walls, flames illuminating Sokka’s face again. Zuko thinks he looks good in firelight. Maybe he should tell him, but he doesn’t know how. His voice is stuck. Hopefully Sokka knows what to say, and knows what should come next.

Zuko wants to tell him again that he’s sorry. He shouldn’t have been so quiet all night, so cold. But he didn’t know any stories to tell that weren’t sad ones, and he’s terrible at telling jokes, and each look into Sokka’s eyes takes his breath away. 

Maybe Zuko has felt this way for a long time, maybe he hasn’t. Does it matter? Sokka’s here. Zuko wants to kiss him.

_Maybe I should,_ he thinks, and his heart rate picks up. _Maybe I_ _should kiss him, right now, so he knows that I like him back._ It might not have seemed that way during their date, it probably seemed like Zuko was bored or that he didn’t care, and if Sokka thinks that’s true then he’ll assume Zuko didn’t enjoy it, and Zuko doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens.

_ Be brave,  _ he thinks, as he looks at Sokka’s lips. This reminds him of his date with Jin, and running away after she kissed him. This reminds him of Mai and a fluttery feeling in his chest. It’s back now, it’s like there’s a pair of wings in his stomach. Maybe he’ll start flying away.

Sokka’s talking. Zuko can’t hear him. His heart is pounding too loud, he’s shaking too hard.  _ Be brave,  _ he thinks, and he sucks in a deep breath and leans in.

Everything moves so fast, it makes his head whirl. First thing is Sokka puts a hand on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair. Then they kiss, and it’s  _ good,  _ Sokka’s lips are soft and Zuko nearly melts on the spot.

Sokka pulls away and looks at him. Zuko’s lungs just give up trying at that point, he can’t breathe but that’s all right. Sokka kisses him again. It lasts longer. Zuko feels lightheaded, dizzy and giddy and warm.  _ If I pass out don’t worry,  _ he would say, if he weren’t being kissed.

Sokka pulls away again. Zuko has just enough time to be briefly disappointed, to consider opening his mouth and asking him  _ why did you stop?  _ But that all disappears when Sokka lays his head on his shoulder.

A terrifying mixture of disbelief, fear, relief and  _ longing  _ crashes over him, and Zuko feels weak in the knees.  _ This can’t be real,  _ he knows, it makes no sense and he doesn’t deserve it, but Sokka is here anyway which means Zuko’s probably hallucinating or just being tricked (Sokka wouldn’t do that, but what if he would?). If it’s real, that’s good because it means Sokka didn’t completely hate their date, but what is Zuko supposed to do now? How can he keep him? How can he make sure he has this, has  _ Sokka,  _ for as long as he possibly can? What is he supposed to  _ do? _

“Relax,” Sokka says, shoulders shaking with a bit of laughter at Zuko’s expense. “You’re as stiff as a tree branch.”

_ Well,  _ Zuko thinks,  _ that answers that last question,  _ so he relaxes in Sokka’s arms, and they remain there, holding each other beneath the starlight, until Sokka lets go, and they both turn to begin the walk home.

  
  


…

  
  
  


One week in, Zuko’s made some interesting observations.

Sokka is not shy about revealing his feelings. He will talk about his emotions in a way he never did with Zuko before they started dating (apparently that’s really what they are now—dating). He might run up to Zuko in the hallway, sling an arm around his shoulders and announce: “I’m  _ hungry,  _ Zuk-Zuk, and it’s making me crabby!” Or maybe he will come up behind him in the garden and wrap his arms around his waist and say, “Where’ve you been, Ko-Ko? I missed you and it made me so sad!”

The nicknames are a new thing. Sokka seems to have squeezed every nickname possible out of Zuko’s name—everything except for ‘Zu-Zu’, that is. He’ll call him “Zukie,” and “Kukoo,” and “Kuzo.” “Top-knot,” sometimes, or “angry-eyes,” “paper-face.” Zuko gets it—he’s stern, he’s pale, he’s had questionable hairstyle choices in the past. When it first started, Zuko felt a bit defensive, felt like snapping at Sokka for calling him these things, but everyone else just laughed good-naturedly, eyes turning up, which was when Zuko realized that these names weren’t meant to be insults. And of course they weren’t, it was  _ Sokka  _ saying them, and Sokka would never insult anyone. It does remind him a bit of Toph, though, which is… interesting.

The talking is where it gets confusing. 

It starts with little things. Much like at the dinner they shared about a week ago, Sokka likes asking Zuko questions. He likes to sit beside him with his feet up on the fountain and say, “How are you doing today?”

“You have a good breakfast?”

“Wanna go bear-hunting with me?”

Zuko answers, “Fine,” “Yes,” and “No,” respectfully. Sokka never seems satisfied with his short answers, but Zuko doesn’t know what else to say. This means that Sokka always has to carry their conversations, filling the quiet with his own stories like he always does. Zuko feels guilty but doesn’t know how to fix it.

He’s not good with small talk. It’s never been something he participated in. If something is important, relevant to the situation, then he’ll say it. But he’s not one to chat about the weather, to fill silence with his chatter. He wouldn’t know how.

“No?” Sokka says. “But I got a brand new spear!”

“I have duties to attend to. I’m the Firelord.”

“Hmph, you’re no fun. Well, I’ll get you to go hunting with me one of these days. I think you’ll like it.”

Sokka looks at him, smiling, and Zuko can’t think of a single thing to say. If this was a story, they would go hunting together, but it’s not and Zuko has real duties that take up most of his time. “I’m sorry,” he offers, because it’s better than nothing, and hopefully Sokka won’t be as angry with him if he apologizes.

“Eh, don’t sweat it,” Sokka says, nudging his shoulder. 

He’s a good liar, but Zuko knows he must be mad. Mai always got angry when Zuko didn’t spend time with her. Ozai got angry when Zuko  _ breathed.  _ It’s not like he would be hurt if Sokka were angry at him—he’s used to that, he probably wouldn’t react at all—but it’s kind of Sokka to hide it. He appreciates that.

Not that Sokka should bottle up his feelings, but— 

It’s just easier. For now.

(Zuko is extremely selfish. He was like this with Mai, too. Anytime she expressed that she was unhappy with him, he wished she  _ wouldn’t,  _ even if that meant she would have to hide her irritation. That was different, though, because Mai barely felt, and Sokka feels  _ so deeply.  _ It will hurt him to hide his emotions, but Zuko can’t bring himself to wish otherwise.)

Sokka taps him on the forehead. “Hey, hello in there! You’re at the palace, remember? Where do you keep going?”

Zuko stares at him. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Sokka laughs, throwing his head back and slapping his knee—and then puts a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, of course.

That’s another thing. The touching.

Zuko’s not  _ that  _ deprived, he’s fine with being touched, really, but—Sokka just does it  _ so _ much. 

Whereas Mai would occasionally brush up against Zuko as they walked together or lean against him in the hallway, Sokka would much rather press himself tight to his side and squeeze his forearm with his hand. While Mai would much rather simply lay beside him on the couch, Sokka can never sit still and is always running light fingers down Zuko's arm or through his hair, offering energy and warmth instead of coolness and quiet—and Zuko should really stop comparing the two of them. 

They're different. That's just a fact.

Actually, Sokka is vastly different from anyone Zuko has ever known. This was obvious before, but now that they're…  _ dating, _ it's even more apparent—Sokka is happier, more prone to laughter and smiles, than anyone in the Fire Nation—except, perhaps, for Tai Lee. But whereas she held an air of youthful naivety, as if she only managed to be happy because she was so young and innocent, Sokka seems—old, sometimes, faded memories shifting behind his eyes.

Zuko knows that his mother died years ago, but unlike Katara, Sokka never talks about it. He knows about Sokka’s past and the girl who became the moon—or something like that—but Sokka never gives details, he doesn’t spend time talking about it.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it, though.

Zuko used to hold the belief that there is something noble in hiding your hurts, in sparing your friends the trouble of having to listen to you talk about the memories that have pained you. But Iroh was a good teacher and taught him otherwise—you must  _ let go  _ of the weight of the past, and the only way to do this is by sharing it, so that others can help you accept it, be free of it.

Zuko doesn’t know how to pry the truth out of Sokka. Doesn’t know if he even should, if that is what he’s meant to do. Zuko has never been good at comfort, at quiet, therapeutic conversations in the dead of night, like in the stories. He’s not good at talking to people, at understanding emotions and feelings, at touching or telling jokes. He’s not good at much other than fighting, and even then he’s not nearly the best, Azula was leaps and bounds ahead of him, and so is Iroh, Katara too—probably.

Zuko’s not good at much, really.

Often during that first week, and into the second, he wishes he knew what to do to coax the distant sadness out of Sokka’s eyes, to guide their conversations, ease the awkward tension that holds them back. He wishes he could be the one to instigate a kiss or the one to choose a place to go, whether it be another restaurant or a festival or a simple night walk.

He can probably figure out that last one, he thinks, so two weeks after they begin  _ dating  _ he walks up to Sokka after dinner, holds out his hand, and says, “Come with me.”

The sun is setting. It falls upon the towers and turrets of the palace and turns it almost aflame, blood-scarlet light shining across rooftops. A path lit by lanterns leads down to the town within the walls, a place full of three-tiered houses and interwinding pathways, candles lit in windows and on doorsteps to light the ways of passersby. 

“This way,” Zuko says, and leads Sokka to a small alley, which leads right up to the wall. It’s nothing like the wall of Ba Sing Se—this one is much smaller, more like a fence. Here, there’s a rickety ladder that leans against the wall’s base and across to one of the lower rooftops. Here, is the way  _ up. _

Zuko squeezes past a fruit stand, sucking in his stomach to make himself smaller, and looks back once he pops out the other side, feeling ridiculously jovial and almost  _ proud  _ to see Sokka following him, head cocked in interest and a smile playing about his lips. He looks so very  _ Sokka  _ in that moment, boomerang strapped to his back as he squeezes past the stand, looks up and  _ grins,  _ that Zuko finds himself smiling as well, and almost disbelieving once again, because  _ how could he be here? _

Sokka, uncaring of his incredulousness, touches his arm as he makes his way to the ladder. Zuko wavers in place for a moment, the phantom warmth of Sokka’s touch lingering, the smell of orange and spice in the air making him feel almost faint.

“Come on, lazy bones,” Sokka says, already halfway up. “You’re the one who dragged me here, get up on the roof already!”

Zuko blinks at him, refocuses, and smiles as he rushes to climb up. They hover for a moment to find their bearings, and then run across rooftops to find the tallest spot in the town.

The view is spectacular.

Beyond the hundred red rooftops, they can catch glimpses of bright banners hung up on street corners, wheelbarrows left unattended, fruit stands just like this one, fires burning in windows. From here, it seems like the town beneath them is bathed in red light and everything else in shadow—the forest beyond the wall and the sea beyond the forest and even the palace high up on the hill and the dark courtyard outside it. 

There’s the moon.

Shining beautiful and silver, it lights up the whole sky. A few ghostly wisps of clouds pass over it, but don’t quite manage to obscure it, and it hangs high enough that the entire world can probably see it, can probably look up in awe at it, all at the same time.

Sokka, he sees, has gone unnaturally quiet, and his face looks… sharper, as he looks at it. Perhaps it’s the shadows, perhaps it’s something else. Perhaps he’s thinking about her.

Zuko never says anything, but that doesn’t mean he can’t start now. His heart starts to pound faster as Uncle’s words echo in his ears, and the stories replay in his head—he knows communication is essential in a good relationship, and he knows that when one partner is sad, the other should do whatever it takes to make them happy again.

Zuko lays a hand on Sokka’s shoulder.

“She looks nice,” he says.

Sokka turns to him. He blinks, a bit slowly, and Zuko realizes that he must have been lost in thought, too lost to hear him.

“She looks nice, tonight,” he repeats.

“Who?”

“The moon. Your girlfriend. She looks nice. And bright.” Zuko fidgets a bit, uncomfortably. 

Sokka does something he’s never done before.

His eyes go hard and he looks away, wrapping his arms around his knees. His hair lifts a bit in the wind that blows over the rooftops as he says, “Yeah, she was.”

He’s quiet after that.

_ He must be angry,  _ Zuko thinks, panic rising,  _ oh fuck,  _ he’s done it again, Sokka’s going to leave him— 

Sokka doesn’t leave, but the rest of the night passes in a terrible silence, until they finally go back to the palace and part ways.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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